Gold and Silver
by PorkCutletBowlsFatales
Summary: Otabek Altin (the soldier prince) and Yuratchka (Yuri) Plisetzky (the Faerie) find unlikely allies in each other during the attempted siege of Chryso Aima, land of the Faeries. Yuri! on Ice! fantasy AU. Authors: ViktorNikiforovKearsley, Joeneauxvieve. Warning: the T rating is for extreme violence.
1. Chapter 1

As this story is written by two authors, we will each specify when we have written a chapter.

Author: ViktorNikiforovKearsley

An impregnable darkness wrapped its cold, winding arms round the kingdom of Aisimenio, the dimming light of the sun being warped by the many hills surrounding the castle. A single dark figure stood at a grand precipice, his black-clad body like a single dark tear against the pure white landscape. The man observed the rising and falling of the waves beyond the rolling hills below, finally understanding what his father had meant by 'the calm before the storm'. The country seemed at such peace; however, he knew it couldn't last.

The man knelt, scooping a handful of freshly fallen snow from the previously unmarked surface. He rolled it in his palm, momentarily wondering how war would affect the normally peaceful citizens of his country.

He threw the snowball off the cliff, asking himself if this war was really worth it.

The country of Chryso Aima lay fourteen hundred miles off the coast of Aisimenio, on an island oblique to the mainland. It was bright and cheery; always summer due to its immense share of magic. The man's father, who was the king of this realm, was desperate for this power; he believed that if he could control this enormous force, he could rule the world.

Otabek, the prince, had to wonder if maybe his father was wrong. Maybe the power to control the seasons and the weather wasn't worth the immeasurable deaths this war would cause.

"Otabek," called a deep, forlorn voice. It was Otabek's tutor, Christophe Giacometti. He'd slipped out of the castle, obviously, risking his skin to notify Otabek of his father's presence in the residence. The King detested his frequent escapades outside of the compound, deeming them unwise, therefore Otabek generally stayed close enough to catch when his father returned from his hunting trips. Unfortunately, today he'd strayed too far, and he was unable to catch the air his father produced; the same air that generally hinted that he should return home.

"Come! Quickly! Your father is asking for you!" Chris waved a gloved hand towards himself, turning towards the gates. Otabek stood quickly, shaking the snow off his fingertips and warming them in his pockets. He shrugged his hood on, disguising himself to slip back into the castle unnoticed.

Chris led the way, taking him the way they always went. He slipped through the kitchens, shoving a few Pirozhkis into his pockets as he passed before waving goodbye and disappearing down another passage. The cook would blame Otabek, but Chris was underfed as it was; plus, he enjoyed angering his father. It gave him an odd sense of pride, like he'd truly achieved something.

Otabek was thinking this as he slipped through the corridor into his room, not bothering to check the space first. He saw the figure mere inches before himself and attempted to stop, but it was too late. He placed his hands out before him, bouncing off the royal garments that encircled his father's large body.

Otabek gasped, stepping backwards in surprise before collapsing to the stone floor. He stared at his father in horror, the flickering light about the small space adding a frightening air to an already horrifying situation.

"And where do you think you're going?" He glared down at Otabek, his thin wispy beard trembling in anger. The slight crown nestled upon his brow shimmered, showing how much the King was shaking.

"Umm..." Otabek began, clasping his hands together in worry.

"Enough." The King turned, motioning to the two guards that had taken their place beside him.

"Grab him." The men wasted no time, wrapping their long fingers around Otabek's arms and dragging him after the King. Otabek struggled, swearing profusely. He kicked and yelled like a ten year old boy, although he was far from that; he was nearly fifteen. Otabek and the two men followed the King, who strolled down the stairs to the dungeon at a leisurely pace.

 _That's it. He's finally going to throw me into the dungeon_ , thought Otabek, scratching at the soldiers who held him tightly. The King stopped at the door momentarily, glancing behind him and speaking to a guard in low tones. Otabek caught only one word; 'torture'.

Now Otabek was truly frightened. He tried to escape even more desperately; however, the soldiers' grips on his biceps were ones of steel. The King seemed to finally notice the racket his only son was making.

"Son, the chamber is for you, but not in the way that it may seem to be." A horrible grin made its way onto his face, making his eyes sparkle with envy.

"You get an honor that even I have not been bestowed with," the King muttered, turning his focus away from Otabek. Otabek felt his heartbeat speed up, hearing a racket down the hall. Screaming filled the dungeon, and Otabek's father smiled in earnest. Barely a moment passed before the cries ceased as abruptly as they had begun.

"It is prepared," called a soldier down the hall. Otabek could feel the hot tears run down his face before he'd even realized he was crying, and he could not stop. He could sense his father's displeasure, but that did not break the flow of tears down his hot cheeks. The prince heard the painful, heartbroken moans down the hall and felt his heart shrivel within his chest.

"Let us begin," called the King, beginning his stride once more. The soldiers at Otabek's sides grasped his arms once again, but the pain that was coming from the torture room sapped his strength; his struggles were weak and useless. Otabek could not control himself any longer; the men practically dragged him into the room designated for torture.

What Otabek saw there hurt him even more.

A young boy, likely not even twelve yet, lay in the center of the stone room, crying tears that glistened like diamonds. He appeared to be a child like any other, except for the twin feathered wings sprouting from his shoulder blades. They were pure white, glowing with an extraordinary aura that Otabek assumed must have been magic.

The boy had golden hair, a color only seen in Chryso Aima; the land of the Faeries. Otabek noted how long it was; it crept down the boy's chin, wrapping around his thin face like wrapping on a present. Otabek noted the many cultural differences between the two kingdoms; Otabek's dark brown hair, almost black, was cut fairly short at the top, and below the heavy weight-line it was even shorter than that. Otabek fingered his short hair, but only for a moment. He wiped the tears from his face, collapsing to his knees.

The boy's thin, slight body was marred with countless scars; many more than even Otabek had, who had been a hunter nearly since birth. That wasn't even the worst part; the worst part was they all seemed as fresh as a basket of ripe apples. He was shocked into silence, staring up at his father helplessly. The man had a devilish grin on his face, and he fingered a mysterious blade with his fingertips.

"You have been told our history, my son, but not all of it," he began, glancing down at his son. He handed the blade back to the torturer, not even sparing a glance at the writhing boy that lay upon the floor beside him except to deliver a harsh kick to his side. The boy curled even farther into the fetal position, shivering with pain. Otabek tore his eyes from the shivering creature, glancing once more at his father, pained.

"When your great-grandfather waged war on the people of Chryso Aima, he lost; simple as that. He had no chance; there were too many Faeries to fight against, and they had the advantage of flight. There was no way he could have won." He paced the small room, staring over his shoulder at Otabek.

"However, your great-grandfather devised an incredible way to at least put them off for a while. He forged this weapon; it is a blade created out of the magma of mount Chulanont and cooled in the golden blood of Faeries. If you were to slice off the wings of a Royal Faerie and bathe your hands in their blood, it would make your blood run silver." The King looked at Otabek, smirking. Otabek saw the blade in the torturers hands, his eyes going wide and his clenched fingers going slack.

"Wh-what?" He gasped.

"NO! NO, I'll never do that! Let me go!" The King placed a death grip around Otabek's arm and shoved the blade into his hands. "My blood is already silver!"

The King looked at Otabek without a touch of emotion.

"Our forefathers took the wings of many Faerie royalty, so the gift of silver blood has been passed down from generation to generation. You, however..." The King pulled out a knife and slit Otabek's arm open harshly, watching the thick substance flow down his arms. Red blood flowed from the wound, dripping onto the floor. Otabek looked at his arm in shock, gripping the wound and groaning in pain. The King dragged Otabek over to the young Faerie, grimacing at the young boy.

"You Faerie filth, tell my son your name," he said, slitting new cuts along the Faerie boy's naked body, watching the gold blood flow.

"I *gasp* I am..." He started, gasping and doubling over in pain. The King had kicked him again.

"I am prince Yuratchka, heir to the throne of—of Chryso Aima... Ahhg!" The boy looked at Otabek desperately, begging him for help. He mouthed to Otabek, his face contorting in a look of pain, but Otabek was frozen in place. He didn't even notice the godforsaken blade that the King had forced into his hands.

The King hadn't relaxed his grip on Otabek's arm in the slightest. In fact, he only tugged him closer to the Princeling.

"Pull up his wings," ordered the King, struggling to maintain a grip on Otabek's arm. The prince continued to pull away, trying to stay away from Yuratchka, but the King's grip was too strong. He tugged him closer. Then he seemed to change his mind.

"If you don't do this, I will slit your throat," he whispered harshly in Otabek's ears, frightening him enormously. Otabek's hands shook. He gripped the blade tightly.

Then the king brought his thin, shimmering knife up to Otabek's throat and cut a warning slit in Otabek's neck. He gasped from the pain, glancing down to see the blood sliding down his collarbone. He looked at Yuratchka, making a decision.

The King cutting Otabek's throat would surely kill him, but removing the Faeries wings would not if they patched them quickly. The King wouldn't let the Faerie die; he would want to keep him for ransom.

Otabek wondered why the Faerie Prince had been there in the first place.

"Cut them NOW!" yelled the King, his face contorted into a look of hatred. He shoved Otabek towards the curving body of the Faerie Prince.

"Pleeaassee..." moaned Yuratchka, curving in on himself in an useless attempt to release his wings. Otabek stepped forward, pulling up the wings with his hands. Their enormous span stretched up high, the feather's tips brushing against the high ceilings. Otabek cried, the tears falling from his face as he closed his eyes and sliced downwards.

Yuratchka's bloodcurdling scream caused Otabek to flinch, and he tried to get through Yuratchka's wings as fast as possible. He removed them, throwing them to the floor and staring at Yuratchka's wing-stumps and his flailing body. Otabek fell to his knees, burying his face in his hands.

What had he done?

Otabek's father laughed, smiling at his son. Otabek would not look at the King, angering him. The King gripped Otabek's shoulders, pulling his hands away from his face. Then he grabbed Otabek's hands and shoved them in the pool of Yuratchka's warm, golden blood.

Otabek screamed, the golden blood turning silver and winding its way up around Otabek's writhing body.

"What the HELL is happening to me?!" he screamed, trying to wipe the blood off, but he couldn't. Then suddenly, Otabek saw a light, which was impossible, as his eyes had remained closed. But before Otabek could say a thing, the toffee like silver blood covered his eyes, and he was no longer in his own body.

Otabek's mind rushed through information at a million miles a second. He saw, heard, felt. It was someone's past; his birth, life, and the last moments this person had gone through from his point of view. He saw everything.

Otabek opened his eyes.

"Yuri?" he said to Yuratchka. Then, it was as though his memory was wiped. Otabek's eyes hardened as he looked at Yuratchka, or Yuri, one last time.

Then he collapsed to the floor, unconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

Author: ViktorNikiforovKearsley

"Yuratchkaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" called King Viktor, leaning back on his throne happily. He smiled, looking at his husband, King Yuuri, who held his hand tightly. Their son, his bright blond hair messy as ever, bounded into the room.

"Ihlk! Stop being so emotional all the time!" Yurachka groaned, stomping into the room. His feathery wings dragged on the floor behind him, splotched with mud and pebbles. Viktor gasped, the over exaggerated sound echoing around the room.

"My, Yuri, you're so dirty!" he said, putting his hand up to his mouth. Yuuri started laughing.

"Yeah, Yuri, I think you've got a little something there." He motioned emphatically, describing the dirt as 'all over'. Yuri groaned and rolled his eyes, saying,

"See you two geezers later." He stalked towards the far hall, intending to take a bath, but Yuuri stopped him.

"Viktor, you have to tell him," he muttered nearly incomprehensibly, bending his head towards Viktor's ear. Viktor looked confused.

"Ehh? About what?" Now it was Yuuri's turn to roll his eyes.

"The mission. In order to ascertain our agreement for diplomacy with the Asimenian Republic remains sound," Yuuri whispered. Viktor's normally joyful face slipped, revealing a sadness Yuri had never seen before. He bowed his head, muttering,

"Yurachka, please come back over here." Yuri walked over, his eyes sparkling with worry. When Viktor looked at him, it was with such a terrible look of loss that it nearly knocked Yuri over. He stumbled, saying,

"Papa?" Viktor had tears in his eyes.

"The King of Asimenio has requested your presence, but has denied our request to travel with you..." Viktor gulped, and Yuuri laid his hand upon Viktor's shoulder reassuringly.

"You are going to have to go without us. I'm sending you with Sir Nishigori and Sir Crispino to meet with the King. They will do most of the talking; you are just there as a show of our wish for peace, and for face. I pray that you return safely. Now, please, go, my son." Yuri rushed forward and embraced his fathers tightly, muttering,

"I will not fail."

"Please don't?" whispered Viktor informally into Yuri's ear, laughing lightly. He smiled wanly, pulling away and leaving Yuri to hug Yuuri. Viktor and Yuuri shared one last desperate look with their son before he was escorted to his room to pack for his long, reviled journey.

 _Four Days Later: The Gates of Asimenio Castle._

"Prince Yuratchka, please hurry. We must be there before nightfall. I have run out of arrows for hunting, and there is very little kindling for fires. Please," asked Sir Nishigori lightly. He smiled hopefully at Yuri, who struggled to pick up the pace. Sir Crispino, a young night recently inducted into the order, was falling behind, and Yuri attempted to help him keep up with Nishigori. The last three days on the water had left them hungry for small forager animals throughout the forest, and in his haste to catch one, Nishigori had lost nearly all of his arrows. The rest were broken when they encountered a bear the night before. Yuri still wasn't over the fright that had caused him.

"Crispino's being slow," whined Yuri, trying to push him forwards.

"Come on, Crispino, we're nearly there. See? That's the gate," Yuri said, moving around beside him. Yuuri shook him, but Crispino didn't seem to register anything. Even once they reached the bridge overlooking the Grand Moat. Yuri began to worry for him, and figured they would need to get him a doctor once he was inside. He could have some sort of illness.

"Please, allow us entry!" shouted Yuri towards the doors. "My friend will not speak, and I am worried for his safety. Please send down a doctor!" he added, yet the doors remained closed.

"I beg of you! Please let us in!" Yuri yelled again, his voice raising in octave. He gripped his friend's shoulders, lifting him below the wings. Crispino would not stand, and Nishigori rushed over, aiding Yuri in supporting him.

"Please, I think he's sick!"

"Then let's put him out of his misery," said a voice behind him, directly before an ebony arrow struck Crispino through the heart. Golden blood stained the front of his uniform as he slumped to the floor, dead.

"NOO!" screeched Yuri, turning and glaring at the man who must have been the Asimenian King. Yuri hissed violently, pulling twin blades from their perch across his back.

"You will pay for this," he growled.

"From you, a mere child? Hah," he laughed, pointing and looking at Yuri's other guard.

"Kill him."

A volley of arrows struck Nishigori, and he did not have a chance. He was dead in seconds, his blood seeping over the cracked stone bridge.

"Wh-why?" moaned Yuri, his blades slumping down. He ran to Nishigori, trying in vain to wake him up, but nearly a dozen arrows stuck out of his chest. Both he and Crispino were dead.

"Why, my young child, I'm surprised the King—or shall I say Kings—let you come. They are daft to believe that I would do anything but hold you for ransom. Or... will I?" He grinned evilly at Yuri, who's eyes glowed with a look of absolute and unrequited hatred. Yuri held his swords, their blades burning with red fire.

"You will regret this, King Leroy," Yuri said menacingly, his voice wobbling with anger. He glowered at the King, raising his blades and screaming with hatred.

"You will..." A dart hit Yuri right above the collarbone, injecting a sort of vile liquid into Yuri's golden bloodstream, and he stopped.

"'Neraida-Dolofonos', or Faerie-Killer. It only affects Faeries because of the heightened calcium content in your blood. The same calcium that previously made you almost invincible now only serves to quicken your demise," the King remarked calmly. Yuri collapsed to the ground, gasping and writhing in agony.

"Why..." he whispered, clutching his stomach and pulling the dart from his chest. He gasped at the relief, but it was short lived.

"Get him." Three uniformed guards grabbed Yuri, hitting and beating him. It didn't matter that Yuri was only a child; they were accustomed to dealing with children even younger than him. They beat him unconscious and dragged him to a cell in the dungeons, beating and harming him as they went.

Yuri awoke to the sound of scraping down the hall and King Leroy's voice, light and excited. Yuri could feel pain all over his body; he'd been cut in millions of places. Many of them were fading into scars at this point because of Faerie's remarkable healing abilities, but he still hurt extraordinarily badly. He heard crying down the hall; it sounded like another child, likely only a few years older than himself. Yuri screamed for help, but his throat was raw and body was torn; he couldn't do much more than screech.

The man that had opened his cage looked momentarily stunned by his age; he figured maybe this man wasn't used to dealing with people this young. He attempted to give the man a harsh glare but it only came out as a look of utter and complete pain. The man shook off his discomfort, grabbing Yuri and tugging him down the hall, despite his emphatic protests. The man tugged Yuri into a moderately small room, save for the ultra-high ceilings. Yuri wondered why they were so high, then realized he truly did not want to know.

The floors were rough, cracked stone, likely from blades and extended use. He shivered to think of what kind of things were done in this sparse, dimly lit room. Yuri struggled hard, trying to free his hands. He tried to call on his elemental powers; those that had been passed down from generation to generation in his family. He mumbled an incomprehensible slur of divine words, closing his eyes, but then an inexplicable pain shot through his body.

Yuri opened his eyes, trying to focus on the walls through his shock of blinding pain. He noticed that they weren't the usual, traditional stone; rather, a mix of stone and another seemingly mysterious substance.

It didn't remain unknown for long.

"Ob-Obsidian..." he mumbled, shaking on the stone floor where the man had dropped him. He knew of the evil substance but had never seen any before. He figured it was because he wasn't allowed in the dungeons at home, where it was necessary; everyone had magic there.

The reason it was used in magic-containing communities was because it was the only substance unearthed that could hinder magic-bearers from using their magic. In non-magic using communities, it was a denotation of power; to prove they could control magic wielders. Yuri detested the substance, for obvious reasons. As he shook on the floor, he thought of the powerful wizards who could surpass obsidian, like Phichit Chulanont.

Phichit was the king of Chryso Aima eons before; he'd won a battle against the prior king and took his place. During the siege of an ancient country called America, Phichit was caught and tortured by the enemy. A circlet of the purest and blackest ebony was fixed about his neck by the humans to control him, but when they killed his eldest son, he was able to break free of the powerful stone and save the rest of his family from death.

Yuri wished he'd had that power, but unfortunately, he was too young to ascertain how powerful he'd be. Even his fathers, Yuuri and Viktor, didn't know.

Thinking about his fathers saddened Yuri immensely, and he felt the tears bleed from beneath his closed eyelids as he cried silently. The sound of stomping feet shifted his focus, however, and so did the feet that kicked him and blades that cut him. He screeched, wrapping his arms around himself. He would have done so with his wings if the guards hadn't grabbed them and held them up in the stuffy underground air, leaving Yuri's stripped body for the whole company to see. A young man, obviously the one who had been crying earlier, stood before him, tears running down his cheeks.

The man, probably around fifteen years old, was clothed in a dark soldier's uniform; a navy blue cape over solid black armor. The crest that held his cape together and his belt buckle contained the same insignia as the rest, save for an unusual crest upon his scaled metal gauntlets. However, very few in Asimenio or the surrounding countries didn't know what that crest meant.

He was the Prince.

Although he was curious why the Prince was down here, what Yuri really wanted to know was why the man was crying. The Prince's deep brown eyes were red, glistening with unshed tears. He held his hands out, and Yuri believed that if he hadn't been held in place by the guards, he would have helped him. His hair was messy; like he'd fought someone. Yuri smirked inwardly, seeing the numerous scratches all over the guards' faces and arms. It wouldn't take a genius to see who had made those.

"Otabek, you have been told our history, but not all of it." _Ah, so the Princeling's name is Otabek_ Yuri thought, shaking with pain. He heard the King tell the story of the blade he had just shoved into Otabek's arms, and a terrible one it was. As soon as King Leroy said the words _cut_ and _wings_ , Yuri knew something was frightfully wrong.

"NO! NO, I'll never do that! Let me go!" Yuri could almost sense Otabek's fear, the terror and disgust obvious in his facial features angering the King. Leroy dragged him closer to Yuri, who's body shied away from the King against his will. Leroy brought the blade closer to Yuri, his hand wrapped around Otabek's shaking wrists. Otabek was horrified; Yuri was thankful for this. He hoped that Otabek wouldn't hurt him.

"My blood is already silver!" Yuri gasped, looking at the boy.

 _A Sliverbane? At his age?_ Yuri was terrified; one could only become a Sliverbane by removing a Faerie's wings and bathing your hands in their blood.

Yuri choked.

They were going to cut his wings off.

Yuri screamed, the theory impossible in his mind. He looked at Otabek, begging for his freedom. Yuri figured the man wouldn't be able to do it; the terrified look on his face proved as much.

"You Faerie filth, tell my son your name," growled King Leroy, glaring at Yuri hatefully.

"I *gasp* I am..." He started, doubling over from the King's sudden, harsh kicks.

"I am prince Yuratchka, heir to the throne of—of Chryso Aima... Ahhg!" Yuri couldn't finish his sentence, the pain being too much. He watched the realization dawn on Otabek that Yuri was his equal. Four years younger, maybe, but nonetheless his equal.

The king issued a command, pointing at Yuri's wings. He felt them stretch high above him. Yuri moaned in protest, feeling their broken angles twist and bend.

"If you don't do this, I will slit your throat," the King threatened, and he saw Otabek flinch. He reached out with the blade.

"CUT THEM NOW!"

"Nooo... pleeaassee..." Yuri felt the petrifying blade near his wings.

And felt the strongest and most horrifying pain he'd ever felt in his life. Yuri screamed, pain blurring his vision and causing his arms to go slack. When Yuri rolled over, trying to save his wings form total eradication, Yuri felt Otabek break through the last sinew.

Yuri glanced over to the stone floor beside him where his wings lay, tears mingling with the gold blood slathered all over the floor. Otabek was shoved down into the pool, and Yuri suddenly felt no pain.

Yuri was a young child again, playing about, but this time he didn't have wings. He had short, black hair and the Prince's crest on his wrist. Yuri passed through this boy's entire life up until that moment with the knife.

Otabek.

Yuri awoke, opening his eyes slightly. The pain returned full force, and Yuri passed out. Just before he did, however, he saw Otabek's face change.

"Yuri?" Yuri sucked in a breath, his eyes rolling back up into his head as he lost consciousness.

When Yuri awoke the next day, he was forced into an even smaller cage than he'd had before, tight canvas wrapped like a tourniquet around his chest. He felt little pain, most of it having disappeared with his quick healing.

The only thing that was missing was the comforting weight of his large, feathered wings.

Yuri wrapped his arms around himself, crying glistening tears onto the stone floor.

Yuri glanced down the dark passage leading out of the dungeons, knowing he would probably not see his fathers, Yuuri and Viktor, for many years.

He wished they could finally know how much he truly loved them.


	3. Chapter 3

_Four years later:_

Otabek made his way down the narrow stone staircase that led to the dungeons of the castle, scrunching up his face at the stench. What greeted him when he reached the base were filthy cells with starved prisoners, all begging for release. He avoided any and all eye contact and strolled past them without a second thought. His long dark cloak swayed back and forth and his boots made a quiet echo throughout the obsidian halls. He held a cracked clay platter in both hands that carried a vase of dirty water, stale bread, and rotten fruits and vegetables. A meal fit for a prisoner.

The soldier prince stopped at the final cell in the hallway. He knelt down and slid the tray through an opening in the bottom of the cell bars. The opening was just barely wide enough for the tray to fit through, and the bread rolled off into a dusty corner of the cell before stopping. Otabek then removed a hidden hemp satchel from his cloak. He took out a warm piroshki and tossed it into the cell where it bounded into a pale hand. The hand grabbed it and held it up to his face.

"What is this?" snapped the confined sixteen-year-old. He gently squished the piroshki in his hand and craned his neck to look at Otabek.

"Eat," he commanded. "You'll need your strength. There's a storm coming tonight." Yuri was confused by this reply. He didn't know what to make of it. Otabek still stood outside the heavily rusted iron bars and stared at the young Faerie. He was severely underfed. His ribs and vertebrae were too easily seen through his skin. He was given almost no clothing with the exception of torn and stained pants that came down to his mid-shins and a sleeveless cloth tunic. His golden hair had grown long enough to touch the base of his wings, which had slowly redeveloped over the past four years. They were whiter than snow and possessed countless feathers, both large and small. They were capable of movement and feeling pain, but were still nowhere near strong enough to carry his body to great heights, especially in the current condition Yuri was in. After an uncomfortable amount of silence, Otabek's gaze was still fixed on Yuri. Yuri quickly concluded that Otabek wasn't going to leave unless he ate the breaded rice, meat and eggs, and the temperature in it was quickly decreasing. He took a small bite of the foreign food (foreign to Yuri at least), and was amazed at how delicious it was. The fried breading seemed to melt in his mouth and the meat was seasoned with flavors that were completely exotic to him. He quickly crammed two large bites of it in his mouth; his cheeks were stuffed with food as he chewed. After he took a huge gulp, Otabek finally made his leave. His massive boots echoed throughout the corridor as he ascended the staircase.

* * *

Otabek silently walked past the throne room where his father resided. From what he could gather, his father was discussing with his advisors about what terrible fate was in store for Prince Yuratchka.

"What have King Yuuri and King Viktor said? Are they willing to abide by my demands?" asked King Leroy.

"We do not know, your majesty. They have not sent their response yet. But it is evident they have received our most recent proposition, as an artificial storm is coming our way. The severity of it is too high to be a naturally occurring one," said the first advisor.

King Leroy grasped his scepter tightly. His face was gradually becoming one of frustration and anger.

"Those damn faeries don't know when to quit!" he spat. "We have their heir! We won! There isn't anything they can do if they want him back alive except do exactly as I say!"

"So why not just kill him?" said a second advisor, this one being female. We have no further use for him, not since Otabek became a Silverbane. I'm still unclear about your plan, Your Ma-"

"Of course you don't get it, you stupid woman!" roared the king. "Otabek is under _my_ control, and _will_ follow _my_ commands. And when his son becomes a Silverbane, he shall do the same!" The king paused to catch his breath. "There is no place for a woman like you in my court! Begone! GUARDS!" Two armored guards grabbed the woman's arms. She remained completely collected. They walked her out of the room, and she didn't bother to protest in any way. She was silent. Her long flowing black hair trailed behind her as she was escorted out of the castle. Otabek wanted to feel sorry for her, but what really aggravated, no, infuriated him was how becoming a Silverbane against his will was all part of his father's twisted plan.

 _How could I have been so blind?_ Otabek thought to himself. He marched out of earshot of the throne room and made his way to his bedroom. The high ceilings of the room were as intimidating as Otabek was when he was fully clad in battle armor. The red and silver patterns intertwined gracefully on the walls, which were decorated with Otabek's hunting trophies. Bear, tiger, and stag heads were the centerpieces of it all. They were surrounded with colorful and countless variations of birds, rabbits and reptiles. But the crown jewel of the collection was secretly the one Otabek regretted taking the most.

An enormous pair of pure white feathered wings sat enclosed in a glass case, the sunlight through the window making them difficult to look at. Their condition was as if they had been hunted and propped up yesterday. The gleaming knife that was used to remove the wings was in its own case, and placed inches under it. The part of the wings that would have had a body attached to it were stained with dried golden blood. These were the wings of Prince Yuratchka.

Otabek originally allowed the wings to be placed in his room simply to satisfy his father, but as time passed, they eventually became a reminder to him. A reminder of what he had become, what he is, and what he forever will be. Otabek Altin Leroy. The Silverbane.

Otabek knew he should have been proud of what he had done. His father did it, and his father before him, and his father before him. Every one of them had been proud of themselves for the execution of these horrendous acts. But deep inside him, he knew he was against it from the beginning and he hated it.

A loud clash of thunder brought Otabek back to reality. Rain was falling against his window and blue bolts of lightning flickered in the darkened sky. The kings were justifiably angry, but it was not like either of them to act this violently against anybody, whether they were an enemy or not. Otabek removed a small piece of parchment from a hidden pocket in his cloak. It was a message from Chryso Aima to King Leroy of Aisimenio. It read:

 _To King Jean-Jaques Leroy,_

 _Our Yuratchka has been in your_  
 _confinement for nearly four years_  
 _now. All we are asking is for you To give us some sign that he is alive. However, any request from us regarding our son seems to be and most likely will be discarded by you._

 _Unlike many Faerie kings  
_ _before_ _us, we are not ones to  
condone violence. We are  
prepared to exchange the  
_ _following for Yuratchka's safe  
return to Chryso Aima. One-half of  
one million __Faerie seeds and one magic  
rejuvenation crystal. With this supply,  
your __kingdom should have enough  
food to feed the next twenty  
generations __when used wisely, even_ _without_ _the crystal._

 _However this is our final_ _proposal,_ _and we will not take any_ _counter-offers._

 _If you do not respond to this letter within  
the next sixty days, we will attack  
your kingdom. We do hope you will  
consider our offer this time._

 _Signed,  
King Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov  
King Viktor Nikiforov-Katsuki_

Otabek had to make sure that the kings weren't bluffing when he received this letter. It wasn't like the kings to cast out threats like this. But the storm was a Faerie-cast one. Otabek was certain that tonight was the night to carry out his plan. _Not_ his father's. He couldn't control him. Not anymore.

* * *

Otabek snuck down to the dungeons again. He pulled out a thin, golden key, sliding it into the lock that kept Yuratchka confined. He swung the door open stepped inside, and pinned Yuri to the ground and forced his arms behind his back. Yuri gave a mild wince of pain, but this was nothing compared to the other methods of torture he had been forced to endure over the past four years.

"What the hell are you doing? Let me go!" screamed Yuri, although he knew that this wasn't going to help him.

"Shut up, freak!" Otabek spat in Yuri's face. Yuri's eyes widened slightly and he stopped, taken aback slightly. Otabek ignored him, taking a chain and wrapping it tightly around Yuri's large white wings. Yuri could barely move, much less flap them. Otabek latched shackles carved from obsidian onto Yuri's wrists and brought him to his feet. They walked out of the cell in the direction of the torture chambers. Yuri began to struggle under Otabek's strong grip and tried to force himself free, but his malnourished body was no match for Otabek's strength. His scars ached under the large gauntlets that Otabek wore on his hands. Yuri knew he wasn't escaping this time. He was purposefully fed just enough to keep him alive, but not nearly enough to be able to escape confinement alone.

Yuri was shocked when they walked past every torture room and Otabek didn't bother to give them a second look; he just continued shoving Yuri down a corridor that he didn't even know existed before. Within a few minutes, after going down a long flight of unlit stairs, they were greeted with the orange glow of a single torch at the end of the seemingly endless castle. A single guard stood at the ready with a crossbow in hand, his body leaning casually next to a wooden door with a small cutout; the same cutout that introduced the cool, damp winds from outside into the stuffy hallway.

"Where are you taking this prisoner?" asked the guard, sitting up from his lean.

"Excuse me?" snapped Otabek. "I'm the son of the Great King Leroy. You have no business in asking about my intentions."

"What the-" began Yuri.

"YOU SHUT YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH RIGHT NOW!" Otabek yelled directly into Yuri's ear. He hurled Yuri against the wall as hard as he could. His chains gave off a deafening rattle as they collided with each other and the stone wall. Yuri landed on his feet, but quickly collapsed to his knees. He was gasping for air since the impact knocked all of the air out of his lungs. Otabek pretended to not pay attention to this and redirected his focus towards the guard. "Let us through," he snarled.

"It may not be my business to probe you about your personal matters, Your Highness, but it is my duty to keep watch on any and all prisoners confined here," said the guard. "Where are you taking this prisoner?" The guard repeated. Otabek was impatient; he wasn't known for his rationale when he was angry. He punched the guard, cringing at the crack his skull made against the cement walls of the prison. Otabek, after confirming he was unconscious, knelt down and removed the guard's keys from his belt. After several dastardly attempts filled with swearing and cursing, the correct key was found, and the lock dropped to the floor.

"Hold still," Otabek commanded to Yuri. Yuri obeyed and was overcame with a look of surprise when he felt the chains that held his wings in place slide off and crash to the floor.

"Hold out your arms," was what he said next. Yuri obliged and did so. The black chain that minded his shackles dangled from his arms. Otabek drew his long, curved sword and split the chain in two. A small burst of sparks erupted as the chain broke, but now Yuri had free arm and wing movement once again. However, the cuffs that were bound to his wrists still hindered his magic abilities.

"Come on, we have to go now," Otabek practically whispered to Yuri. Now Yuri was completely lost. He couldn't keep track of Otabek's intentions. But before he could wrap his head around it all, he felt the cool metal of Otabek's gauntlets seize his arm and pull him through the open door.

Yuri was entranced by the storm. The raindrops felt refreshing and cool against his face, the bitter cold felt like a blanket around him. It was slightly uncomfortable, yet he wanted to experience the feeling of it for just a little longer. His wings fluttered slightly as they fought to stay closed against the wind that tried to pry them open. Yuri looked up to the black clouds that covered the sky, a smile on his face developing when he saw the blue bolts of lightning tear through the heavens. Otabek seemed annoyed at the rain, but to Yuri it was a reminder of home, and everything he'd left behind.

Yuuri and Viktor were waiting for him.

It was time to go home.


	4. Chapter 4

Author: ViktorNikiforovKearsey (Sorry Joeneauxvieve wrote the last chapter she just forgot to sign it!)

Yuri and Otabek made their way through the dimly lit forest surrounding the castle, breathing heavily. Otabek slid his blade free of its studded scabbard, the shiny silver blade catching the minimal light the from the full moon above. He held it up before him for a moment, taking in the etched insignia near the hilt of the blade. Otabek grimaced, slashing downwards with the sword and taking out a large cluster of vines barring their way , sending water sailing about. Yuri followed quietly behind, his head bowed and his feet catching on thin vines littered over the dirt path. He held his hands out carefully in front of himself, getting as far away from the obsidian manacles locked about his wrists as he possibly could, given they were fastened about him.

"Otabek, please slow down." Yuri stumbled, his soaked hair flying about. He was soaked to the bone, the rain from the storm overhead rolling down his face. The ferocity of the storm was dulled thanks to the thick blanket of trees above, but this didn't stop the rain. It soaked through everything, the pirozhkis Yuri could see in Otabek' pockets likely becoming soggy and inedible. He sighed, his feet tangling below him. Yuri gasped as he fell to the floor, his wings fluttering above his helpless body.

"Yuri, get up. Now. We have to get out of here," Otabek ordered forcefully, glaring at the still boy. Yuri could feel the exhaustion threaten to take over his body.

"Yuri, we haven't gone anywhere yet. We're barely past the gates. How..." Realization dawned on his face.

"Why couldn't my father have at least taken you for WALKS?" he muttered under his breath, crouching down and picking Yuri up. He slung him over his shoulder.

"Catch your breath. I'm putting you back down soon. I can't carry you that far, okay? No matter how light you are," Otabek said, sliding his sword back into its scabbard and placing his arms around Yuri. Yuri felt warm inside, the feeling of Otabek's warm hands on his cold body causing him to relax. He could hear Otabek chuckle beneath him as he let the tension flow from his body. The bounding nature of Otabek's confident steps shook Yuri, and he saw the path they had taken. They walked for maybe ten minutes without any sign of danger, and Yuri slowly paid less and less attention to their path. He closed his eyes slightly, suddenly unable to keep his eyes open. Then he gasped.

"OTABEK, WATCH OUT!" Yuri yelled, but it was too late. Otabek collapsed beneath him, clutching his shoulder around the dart that had just moments earlier hit him. The shadow Yuri had seen only seconds earlier flitted past again, and Yuri ducked to avoid the dart that it shot at him. Yuri turned to Otabek, suddenly terrified.

"Otabek! Oh my god OTABEK! Are you okay?! Please be okay!" He yelled frantically, placing his hands on Otabek and glancing around, terrified. He could feel his heart threaten to burst when he thought of everything he would have to endure if they took him back to the castle.

He was also just a tiny bit worried for Otabek, but he would never admit that.

Yuri felt a presence behind him and he sat in place, shaking violently. He closed his eyes, bracing for the dart that was sure to come.

"Are you truly the Faerie prince?" asked the raspy, and strangely feminine, voice. A hand settled on his shoulder, manicured nails digging into his arm.

"Y-Yes," whispered Yuri, clenching his fingers.

"Give this to my brother." Yuri turned around, confused. The voice belonged to a strangely familiar woman. She had short, two-toned hair, her ears studded with at least a dozen earrings. She stood like a royal, her hips swayed to the right and her hand resting on her sword scabbard.

Then the woman dropped the Chryso Aima family crest into Yuri's lap, and Yuri's eyes went wide. He looked at the woman again, a name surfacing out of his broken memory.

"MARI!" yelled Yuri, jumping up and embracing his aunt. "Why are you here?"

"I came to break you out. What is he doing?" She pointed down to Otabek, who was glaring up at her maliciously. He had long since pulled the dart out of his shoulder, but his breathing was ragged and his face torn up in pain.

"Same as you." Crown Princess Mari looked contemplative, cocking her head at the writhing 19 year old. She shrugged her shoulders, pulling a bottle out of a small hide bag at her hip. Her belt sagged at her hips, indicating she'd lost some weight in the past months. Yuri wondered how long she'd been out there, searching for the best moment to sneak him out.

Mari swore, opening the bottle and tipping out its contents. Or would have, if there had been anything in the bottle.

"I'm sorry, I'm out of salve. You have no idea how often I pricked myself on those darts when I first got out here. I didn't think it was empty though." She sighed, dropping the bottle into the dirt and crushing it beneath the sole of her shoe. The bottle smashed, the shards slowly disappearing down the tiny rivers caused by the harsh storm overhead. Otabek gasped.

"That'll destroy our ecosystems! What are you doing?!" Mari laughed, pointing at the glass.

"You forget; I'm a Faerie. It's magic, hon." Yuri was as worried as Otabek at first, but as he knelt forward, he realized Mari was right. The glass was dissolving into the water, leaving a rainbow discoloration in the water before disappearing altogether. Otabek let out a breath Yuri was sure he didn't know he'd been holding, wincing and curling up again. Yuri suddenly felt odd; a weird, uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach was working its way up his spine as he watched Otabek helplessly. Yuri wrapped his arms around himself, glancing back at Mari.

"Is there anything we can do to help him?" Yuri's manacles clanked together, creating a sound like a warning bell and ultimately catching Mari's attention. She lurched forward, taking in the black rock and touching it lightly with her fingertips, her brown wings fluttering, frightened, behind her. She lifted the restraints, taking in the weight and noticing Yuri's swollen and bruised wrists.

"Did you do this to him?!" Mari yelled, turning and glaring at Otabek, who looked in no condition to speak, much less argue.

"It—it was—precaution..." He said breathily, gasping. Mari let go of Yuri and he toppled to the floor, the renewed weight of the manacles knocking his frail body down. Mari turned and glanced back at him worriedly. He nodded, signaling he was okay, and Mari turned back to Otabek, murder in her eyes.

"You DARE hurt him! If you touch a single hair on his head, feather on his..." Mari stopped, realization dawning on her.

"Yuri," she gasped, her breathing uneven and the murder in her eyes turning into something akin to horror.

"What happened to your wings?"

Yuri didn't want to explain what happened to him over his many years stay at the Asimenio castle, but he had no other choice. Mari was desperate, and Yuri didn't think Otabek would handle it very well. After he requested of his aunt that she remain civilized, he began.

Mari remained composed the entire time, listening as Yuri explained everything that happened in the dungeons of Asimenio. Given, Yuri had had to restrain her from slitting Otabek's throat open quite often, but she remained calm the entire time. She just looked sadly at Yuri, fiddling with the blade behind her back that Yuri was eventually required to confiscate.

"They did that to you?" The composure that Mari had maintaining was threatening to come apart; the shining tears in her eyes proving as much. Yuri looked down sadly, removing his sack-like shirt and turning around.

Mari traced her fingers over the deep scars around Yuri's fledgling wings. Faerie's wings became fully grown by the time they were 16, but the removal of Yuri's wings meant he essentially had to start all over again. Yuri's wings wouldn't be fully regrown until he reached the age of 26 or so, Mari reasoned.

"26 though. You'll probably be king by then. Viktor and Yuuri hate violence, and yet they are using it against King Leroy. Yuuri will probably abdicate the throne when you get back." She said it with such sincerity, Yuri couldn't help the shiver that traveled up his spine. He was not looking forward to possibly becoming king anytime soon. He hadn't even been there for the past four years; how could he be expected to make decisions for the kingdoms future if he wasn't even there for much of its past?

Otabek gasped, catching Yuri's attention. He turned towards the man, placing his fingers on the lapels of his coat as he stared into his glazed eyes. Yuuri could feel Otabek's fever, however; Mari had run out of the medicine. Yuri had absolutely no idea what to do. He just knelt before Otabek, taking in his ragged breathing and slow movements. Yuri glanced back at Mari hopefully, but she just stood.

"Yuri, I wish there was something I could do. I don't have any more salve. If you can get Otabek back to Chryso Aima, however, you might be able to save him. You'll have to be quick though." Something about the way Mari spoke bothered Yuri, but he didn't catch it until he'd picked Otabek up and started to carry him off towards the deep forest.

"Wait, Mari... you said 'you'…" Mari looked downcast, her eyes cast at a small pile of rocks by the tree stump she had just risen from.

"I can't come with you. King Leroy will be desperate after losing his heir." She paused, glancing at Otabek. He was sleeping deeply and fitfully at Yuri's feet. He couldn't carry him any longer. Mari turned back to Yuri, grimacing.

"I don't want to miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime. If King Leroy is desperate for Otabek, he might act stupidly and expose himself to the public. I want to be able to end this." She stood firm; resolute. Yuri knew he wouldn't be able to change Mari's mind; therefore he did the only thing he could.

"Please come back... when you're done." He could feel Mari's tears on his hair, which surprised him more than just a little.

"Mari, are you all right?" She looked up at the trees high above their heads.

"I'm sorry, Yuri. I'm not coming back." She buried her face in his hair, but it lasted only a brief moment. Mari held him at arm's length and wiped her tears away with her hand. She sniffled, smiling lightly.

"I wish I could have known you longer, Yuri. Please tell my brother I love him."

"I will. I just wish you could tell him yourself." He could feel the tears leaking down his face, but he didn't try to wipe them away. He hadn't seen Mari in over four years, but she had always been more of a sister to him than an aunt. She was only 28, nearly ten years younger than her brother, Yuuri, but she was a child at heart. Yuri would play with her when he was younger because she was the only person Yuuri and Viktor truly trusted him with.

"I love you, Yuri, and I promise you; you will make it home. You are destined to." She hugged him one last time, but that didn't stop the flow of tears streaming down her face.

"Goodbye, Mari-Chan." Yuri turned back to Otabek, suddenly stuck.

"Uhh... Mari, I can't carry him. I can barely carry myself." Yuri admitted worriedly, turning back to Mari. She sighed, pain visible in her face. She clenched her fists together before raising trembling hand and whistling twice shrilly, new tears in her eyes.

"Mari-" Yuri started, but was cut off by the most beautiful white pegasus he'd ever seen. She bounded into the clearing, her pure white mane flying in the breeze. Her bright magenta eyes were aimed directly at Mari and she bowed, her front legs bending at the knee as she knelt.

"This is my pegasus, Yukko. She has been faithful to me all these years, but she was not originally a horse. She was a human named Yukko Nishigori, but after her husband disappeared four years ago with you and Michele, she chose to become a mare pegasus. She has been bound to me all these years, but you must take her. She will surely die if she were to remain here with me, and she would be able to carry Otabek. However, she will not be able to fly with both of you, and because your wings are not nearly strong enough to carry you distances, you will have to ride. I'm sorry. It will take you longer, but you will likely be able to get there within the next four days. Once you reach the water, she can take you over one at a time. Please, go." She leaned in a whispered something to Yukko, who nodded her head deeply. She galloped forward, plucking Otabek from the ground like a rag doll and swinging him onto her back. She looked at Yuri expectantly, nudging Otabek and her saddle.

"Yuri, she wants you to get on." Yuri looked back at Mari one last time, tears springing from his eyes again, but Mari just waved.

"さようなら, Yuuri." Yuri turned and slid into the saddle of the horse, supporting Otabek as Yukko turned towards home and proceeded to galop away. Mari stood still for a moment, falling to her knees. Then she stood, wiped away her sorrows, and made her way to the Asimenio castle. She had given Yuri one last look before she ran, however. A look than said only one thing.

 _I will have my revenge._


End file.
